


Entr'Acte: Jack The Ripper

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [113]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Denial of Feelings, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Jack the Ripper Murders, Johnlock - Freeform, London, M/M, Police, Politics, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 22:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16963032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ The most infamous criminal matter in late Victorian London, and Sherlock's part in it.





	Entr'Acte: Jack The Ripper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aely/gifts).



_[Narration by Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Esquire]_

In selecting those of my cases that he thought appropriate to lay before his increasingly demanding public (some of whose letters made me fear for their writers' sanity!) John always followed certain rules. And one such although he never said it was that he did not cover my mercifully small number of failures. This, the most infamous case that I was only tangentially involved in, was one that I regarded as such even though I did identify the killer, and it actually led to Words between us. It was doubly ironic that this was the last case before the name 'Moriarty' would first cast its dark shadow over our lives, eventually coming within a hair's breadth of destroying both of us.

֍

The latter half of 'Eighty-Eight was a difficult one for me personally as I had a run of three cases before this 'non-case' that all affected me personally in one way or another. First was the encounter with Mr. Jimmy Collins in the Broken Batman case, a matter made worse by the fact that I felt unable to share the load with John for once. I knew that despite his own talents that were far too often mocked by far too many people, he knew full well that I was keeping something from him, and the respect he showed in accepting that made me love him even more if that were possible. He was far too good for me.

I was still dealing with the aftermath of this case when, on the last day of August, I read of the brutal killing of one Mary Ann Nicholls. In a city of over a million people such a thing was bound to happen far too often, and although this particular attack had been brutal I paid it as little heed as the newspapers who reported that the victim had been both a prostitute and an alcoholic. 

Early September brought the second difficult case for me, that of my former love Lady Dundas and the divorce that she was seeking from her husband. I know even though he never said as much that John felt guilty over one aspect of this case, in that his encouraging me to investigate the dratted woman's excuse for a husband led to my discovering the truth about my lost son. The support that I received from my true love at that time – it nearly broke me. 

It was during this case that there was a second brutal East End killing, that of Annie Chapman. That too garnered little attention from the press, again most probably because the victim's background was similar to that of the earlier one. The only thing that I do recall from the time was the thoughtfulness of our friend Henriksen, who later told me that some in the force had thought that they should consult me at this point but he had demurred, knowing from John that I was under severe strain with the Dundas Case. My regard for the affable policeman only increased after that and I was fortunate that I was able to repay his great kindness later on in my life.

Three weeks passed and the Dundas Case was mercifully concluded, on my thirty-fourth birthday as it happened. Almost immediately the Etherege Case then demanded my attention. And on the last day of that month the East End killer struck again, twice this time. His victims were Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddowes, both women who had slipped to the bottom of society partly through circumstance and partly through flaws in their own characters. Henriksen appeared at our apartments the very next day and apologetically asked if I would indeed look into matters to which I agreed (he had been commanded to ask for my help by his superiors, which I suspected showed just how serious the situation actually was).

My investigations were of course interrupted by the dramatic conclusion to the Etherege Case and my subsequent recovery from that vile woman's attempt to kill me. I owed John my life for his fast reactions had deflected the fatal bullet just enough. It took some time for me to recover – I found it amusing that John was always a complete mother-hen at times like these although I do know (because everyone insisted on telling me!) that I made a terrible patient. Then again few of those in hospital are faced with their mother threatening to sit by their bedside and read them her terrible stories until they are better, something that can speed even the most sluggish recovery process! 

One Friday in early November - Guy Fawkes' Night as it happened – my investigations were complete and I asked Henriksen to come round so I could provide him with a name which I regret that I cannot state here. I shall however state that rumours linking Prince Albert Victor (the Prince of Wales' eldest son and second-in-line to the British Empire's throne) to the crimes were totally and vilely wrong. That noble gentleman suffered more than enough slurs following his untimely death just over three years later, from both revisionist historians and misguided people who thought the best way to defend the monarchy was to portray what a narrow escape the country had had from his misrule.

Unfortunately politics is a dirty game in any organization. The reader will remember my efforts secured Henriksen's recent promotion at the expense of the son of Chief-Inspector Henry Brown. That 'public servant' retaliated by using his position on the Police Board to pressure those in charge to ignore the name that I gave Henriksen, sneering that to accuse that person was madness itself. The dire consequence was that four days after the meeting with my friend there was a totally unnecessary fifth victim of the now infamous 'Jack The Ripper', Mary Jane Kelly. Henriksen assured me the next day that the named man had been quietly secured and the attacks duly stopped, but the whole matter depressed me as I felt that I had failed. I remember that John got quite angry with me, telling me in no uncertain terms that this was a police failing and that I was not to blame. He was wonderful when roused and although I tried to argue back he would have none of it. I had to accept his decision and that was that.

I loved him so much!

John even offered to sleep on the couch in my bedroom rather than with me, in case he inadvertently injured my still recovering frame during the night. But I would have none of that; I wanted this man beside me and I knew that I felt not just wrong but incomplete when he was not there. And when he staggered out of bed to go and spend a few minutes in his own bed every morning – one had to keep up appearances for the maids – I frankly felt cheated. Still, given the dark times that I had come through of late I should have been thanking God for having what I had with John. I was truly, truly content. And if perhaps, just occasionally, I heard a small voice at the back of my mind whispering about a certain river in Egypt, I ignored it.

Perhaps more than just occasionally.

֍


End file.
